La Cubana, Easton: 'Simple, wholesome, and designed to fill bellies'
A balm in the summer heat
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You could be forgiven for never having heard of La Cubana, the newest addition to Bristol’s slowly emerging Latin food scene. This multi-hyphenate venue and eatery is situated confidently in a nook on Greenbank Road in Easton; one of Bristol’s most culturally diverse suburbs. Learning that Indira Román (a multi-hyphenate herself in regards to her career as an established singer and bandleader in Bristol) had taken over this space, tucked up cosily alongside an organic whole-foods shop, it sang to me of a potential unearthing, the promise of something desperately needed in today’s culinary climate.
Community spaces are disappearing. This is a food-focused publication so I’ll spare you the gory details but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention something which is evident upon even a cursory glance at our dwindling public assets. Food is the great communicator. A gel that brings us together and one that I truly believe in. A shared meal prepared with love is one of life’s simple pleasures. And I believe that the building of community through food is a simple and honest way of fostering conversation between people that transcends language. Enter Indira and her team.
Cuban anthropologist Fernando Ortiz Fernández described the nature of Cuban identity and culture being in a process of permanent renewal and flow using the metaphor of ajiaco; a thick stew, rustic and hearty, boiled over a long period, with its ingredients eventually dissolving to become part of the whole. Formation, disintegration, integration. With cultural contributions ranging all the way from Europe, Africa, China, and the indigenous Taíno, the Cuban kitchen is defined by the constantly shifting community that inhabits it. Upon entering La Cubana on a golden summer evening and feeling the welcome pull of our hosts, I feel but one of these constituent ingredients slowly becoming part of the whole.
The air is warm and close, desperate for a storm to break. After a day spent running errands in Broadmead mid-heatwave (not advisable) we are hungry and carry with us a yearning for respite. We thus find ourselves sat on a veranda outside La Cubana, drinking in the slow mounting buzz of activity around us. An assortment of various musical instruments are being marched past our table (one of which is a full-sized wooden marimba). Directions are being hollered over our heads in Spanish between Indira and the musicians about to play. Parents tend to their small children, the clamour of gorging and crying and shouting and laughing bring to mind a ship’s crew, hoisting in preparation for that storm.
The two-piece band begins to play a slow, syncopated cumbia and to that rhythm our servers are just as easy and colloquial, offering their favourite dishes and cold things to quench in equal measure. We order a pint of local lager (£5) and a glass of lime and maté (£4). The latter is everything you want on a balmy summer’s evening and I would happily down five if it weren’t for the the vast amounts of caffeine in it — this writer is of the age where he has started to value his sleep. While we ponder the menu (tonight they’re offering a mixture of Cuban and Colombian small plates) friends stop to chat as they pass by on the street, peering over the beds of resplendent alliums, marvelling at how much we all feel like we’re on holiday.
The food arrives and the chat is paused. First to be tucked into is the ropa vieja (£9.50) widely held to be Cuba’s national dish. In Spanish, ropa vieja means “old clothes” but what we have here is a bowl of shredded beef, well-seasoned with a generous portion of rice and black beans. Simple, wholesome, and designed to fill bellies. For those who enjoy a touch more in the heat department, there is Cholula on the table, which I apply liberally. I can definitely see how this has come to be a staple, yet I’d be lying if I said I didn’t long for a bit more of the star ingredient, greedy as I am.
The croquetas de mi abuela (Indira’s grandmother’s croquettes) (£6.50) come with a light and refreshing salsa to cut through the fried mixture of sweet potato and corn. If you are used to Spanish-style croquetas, typically made with a savoury bechamel as a foundation and stuffed with anything ranging from cheese, ham, or even fish — these are not them. These are sweeter and lifted with a generous amount of mint. Home-style food done well is where I live in more ways than one, and I am won over. In spite of a certain cognitive dissonance, my body telling my brain that all it wants is a salad after a day of much sweating, the salt, the sweet, and the oil are gratefully received.
Enchilado de camarones con tostones (£10.50) is by far my favourite dish on show here. Not to be confused with the more chilli-centric (as the name suggests) enchiladas of Mexican origin, enchilado de camarones is a Cuban seafood stew of prawns cooked in a sofrito of tomatoes, peppers, and onions. Like with the ropa vieja, I would’ve loved for there to simply be more of everything, as it is delicious. I must admit that I am still wrestling with the idea of there being a ‘small plates’ culture here in Britain, where restaurants tend to charge ‘large plate’ prices for smaller portions, with no obvious benefit. The tostones for me are, however, a highlight unto themselves: green plantain fritters, fried golden — the perfect tool for mopping up leftover juices.
Another highlight are the chicken tamalitos (£9.50). Cornmeal dumplings, filled with chickpeas, olives, and piled high with shredded chicken do just the job of finishing us off entirely. At this point, I am in desperate need of another drink and am enthusiastically recommended the lemonade. It arrives fragrant with mint and pineapple and just the right amount of sugar (a fair bit). Anyone feeling harangued by the heat this summer with frayed nerves in need of a balm, look no further. Speaking of sugar, if there is anything of La Cubana’s reputation that precedes it, it is their tres leches cake (£5). A gargantuan portion served with a generous glug of condensed milk (having already been topped with whipped cream) — calorific consciousness here is rejected with gleeful abandon.
As the carb-induced stupor sets in, I am happy. The food here satisfies and that is indeed what it is meant to do. For all of the trend chasers and influencers looking for the next big ‘grammable bite, put your phones down for a second and enjoy the thing less tangible, why don’t you? A true neighbourhood restaurant, frequented and supported by the people that make up that neighbourhood is becoming a rarity and I think it deserves to be celebrated on the occasions, these quintessential moments, in which we are afforded it. Indira and her cohort are thankfully providing a venue that makes such occasions possible.
All words and photos by Jason Jay Pridham
La Cubana, 3 Greenbank Road, BS5 6EZ
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